


Lockdown

by Gweezle



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal is a little shit, Happy Ending, M/M, Prison Riot, Sassy Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gweezle/pseuds/Gweezle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham visits the Chesapeake Detention Facility on Jack Crawford's orders to find out if Abel Gideon - Hannibal Lecter's former cellmate - really does have any information on the mysterious cannibal. Of course, everything that can go wrong, does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lockdown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Square_Pancake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Square_Pancake/gifts).



> Hey, guys! Forgive me for this, but I just couldn't stop myself. I read an interesting comment about one of my readers getting stuck in a prison during a lockdown, and I just had to know more about what happened. Turns out, Square_Pancake is totally badass, and gave me permission to use what happened in a story! (Well, technically S_P was just locked in a room for two hours, but since that doesn't normally make for a gripping tale, I thought I'd spice it up a little.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Will knew he would regret this.

After a month of working with Jack Crawford and the Behavioural Sciences Unit, they’d received word that an inmate at the Chesapeake Detention Facility said he had vital information about several cold cases in the area. The fact that his previous cellmate was none other than Hannibal the Cannibal made it top priority in Jack’s eyes.

“What’s this Abel Gideon like?” Will asked his escort, a guard named Barney Matthews. He was tall and broad, with dark skin and a round face. Will had taken to him immediately.

Matthews seemed to hesitate. “He’s a talker. I wouldn’t call him a _liar,_ but he’s the type who’ll say anything to get attention.”

“So you think he’s bullshitting us,” Will deduced.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Matthews corrected, hesitating again as they passed down another hallway. “He’s the type who’ll tell the truth the way he sees it. If he thinks he has information about Dr. Lecter, then he probably does. I’m just reluctant to assume it’s really _vital._ ”

“Why?”

“Dr. Lecter isn’t a talker. Not about personal things. He’ll discuss art and poetry and human anatomy, but anything about his victims – or his past – is basically a mystery.”

“Sounds like you know him pretty well.”

“We get along,” Matthews admitted. “I treat him the way someone like him deserves to be treated. With the utmost respect and caution.”

“Respect,” Will repeated flatly, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s the best way to treat the inmates. Give them respect, and they respect you in turn. Build good relationships, and they’re more willing to part with information that we need to know. I’ve used those connections many times to help prevent catastrophes.”

“Really?” Will said, interested.

Matthews nodded. “The most dangerous weapon in here is a cellphone. There have been cases where gang leaders have ordered a hit while still in prison. Eliminating witnesses, giving orders to their subordinates, sometimes even organizing a breakout. It’s a constant struggle.”

Will frowned. “Damn! And I thought the problems ended once we locked them up.”

“Cop mentality,” Matthews accused jokingly. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

Will shrugged. “For twelve years. Guess it stuck with me.”

Matthews put his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Forget everything you know about being a cop. Be polite. Be professional. Be ready to react if things go bad.”

As if Fate was listening in, alarms began blaring throughout the hallway. Matthews’s hand went to his belt, pulling out a radio.

Will listened in, eyes darting back and forth as his paranoia grew.

“ _Riot in Sector 4. We’re going into lockdown._ ”

“Copy that,” Matthews said with a frown. He grabbed Will’s arm, leading him to one of the interview rooms. “Sorry about this, Mr. Graham. I need you to stay in here until things settle down. Someone will come to escort you out as soon as possible.”

Will blinked at him in disbelief. “You’re just leaving me? I didn’t bring my gun.”

Matthews shook his head. “You won’t need it. Sector 4 is clear on the other side of the facility. No one will make it passed the guard stations. Just stay in here, lock the door, and you’ll be fine.”

Will pursed his lips, nodding slowly. “Alright, good luck.”

Matthews nodded in return, shutting the door behind him. Will locked it, and then turned around to take stock of the room. The only furniture was a flimsy table, and two metal folding chairs. He collapsed into one, eyeing the frosted glass window on the door with trepidation.

After a few minutes, he began tapping the table rhythmically, whistling to himself. He was trying very hard not to imagine the worst-case scenario for this situation.

The lights began to flicker, and he willed himself to stay calm. It was probably just a tactic to disorient the rioters. Everything was fine.

As time slowly went by, his tapping became louder and more erratic, until it echoed throughout the silent room. Anything to drown out the sound of his own ragged breathing. His mouth was too dry to whistle anymore. He wished he had a glass of water or something. He didn’t even know how long he’d been in here. There was no clock, and he didn’t have a watch or his phone.

He folded his hands on the table and leaned his forehead against them, whispering to himself. “It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s almost over. Get it together, Graham!”

A knock at the door sent him to his feet, and the metal chair crashing to the floor. Internally, Will cursed himself for revealing his presence.

“Excuse me,” a male voice called out. “Are you in need of assistance?”

Will frowned before approaching the door cautiously. “I’m fine, thanks. I was told to wait here,” he called back, seeing no point in pretending he wasn’t there.

“Ah,” the man said, understanding filling his voice. “You must be the agent sent to interview Abel Gideon.”

Will frowned. The person didn’t _sound_ threatening, but he’d worked homicide long enough to know not to give his trust so easily.

“What gave you that idea?”

The man sounded distinctly amused. “I’ve worked here long enough to be familiar with most of the guards and inmates, but I do not recognize your voice. Abel Gideon has been quite vocal recently that the FBI would be paying him a visit soon. It’s a simple deduction to make.”

_Worked here…so he’s a guard?_

Made sense. An inmate who made it this far wouldn’t bother stopping to chat, especially so casually.

Will reached out and unlocked the door, stepping back quickly just in case it was a trick.

He relaxed. The man on the other side of the door was in the same uniform Barney Matthews was wearing. His hands were at his sides, fingers spread out to show they were empty.

He was a bit taller than Will, with dark blond hair streaked with gray. He had sharp cheekbones and lips that looked almost pouty. A neatly trimmed beard covered most of the bottom half of his face.

Will glanced up quickly at his maroon eyes, and caught the tail end of a fleeting look of…surprise? Wonder? He wasn’t sure, but it made him look away.

He shuffled awkwardly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Um, hi?” he said, biting his lip. “I’m Special Agent Will Graham.”

The guard smiled, exuding the kind of composure that Will envied, and held out his hand. “Boris Jakov. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Agent Graham.”

Will stared at the hand for a moment before tentatively reaching out to shake it in greeting. “Not exactly the nicest way to meet new people, but I could use a friendly face right about now.”

Jakov frowned, glancing down the hallway. “Yes, it’s rather unfortunate that our meeting couldn’t have taken place under better circumstances.” He then turned back to face Will, smiling again. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, Agent Graham. The riot is more widespread than was first thought, and I was told to escort any civilians I came across off-grounds. I’m afraid your interview won’t be taking place today.”

Will sighed. “Great,” he grumbled, putting his hands into his pockets. “Jack – my boss – he’s gonna give me an earful for this.”

“It’s hardly your fault,” Jakov said, trying to reassure him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Will muttered, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to be getting information on Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Jack’s obsessed with the guy. If he were here, he’d probably just plow through the rioters and glare them into submission.”

Jakov looked distinctly amused. “Am I to assume you don’t share this obsession?”

Will shrugged. “Guess I never found him that interesting. It wouldn’t be healthy for me to get too immersed into a mind like his anyways.”

Jakov tilted his head, curious, but then glanced down the hallway again. “I do hate to rush you, Agent Graham, but…”

“Oh! Sorry.” He ducked his head, approaching the guard and giving the hallway a surreptitious glance himself.

“Not a problem,” Jakov told him, leading him towards the front door.

They walked in silence for a moment, though Will couldn’t help but notice how Jakov’s eyes kept sweeping over him.

“So, uh…how long have you worked here?” he asked, for once not bothered by the idea of small talk. Honestly, after being stuck inside that room for so long, even he was craving a bit of social interaction.

“Oh, a few years now,” Jakov said airily.

“Do you like it?”

The guard’s lips twitched downward minutely.

“Guess that’s a no,” Will answered for himself.

Jakov’s eyes darted over to him again. “Is it that obvious?” he asked, sounding honestly curious.

“To everyone else? Probably not. I’m pretty good at reading people, though.”

“That sounds like a useful talent for an FBI agent.”

Will sighed. “Yeah, it’s the reason Jack sent me. He figured if anyone could figure out what Abel Gideon knows, it was me.”

“You don’t sound very happy about that.”

Will smiled darkly. “You’re pretty insightful yourself, Mr. Jakov.”

“And _you_ seem to be evading the subject.”

“You sound like a shrink,” Will accused jokingly.

Jakov tilted his head again. “I’ve studied psychology to some extent.”

Will glanced at him, taking in his posture, the way he looked in his uniform. Something seemed off. “You know, you don’t really strike me as a prison guard.”

“It was hardly my first choice of occupation.” Jakov said, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. “I initially wanted to go into medicine when I first immigrated, but my grasp of English was too limited at the time. My accent also made it difficult for interviewers to understand me, so my job prospects weren’t very good.”

“You sound okay to me,” Will assured him.

Jakov smiled. “I’ve had years to improve my English, and to temper my accent.”

Will laughed bitterly. “I can relate to _that._ ”

Jakov arched an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“I’m from Louisiana,” he explained, slipping into a drawl as he spoke the final word. “Took me a year of university in Washington to lose my accent. Up until then, people would listen to me talk, and assume I was just a stupid hick. Before my second semester started, the guidance counsellor tried to convince me to take some _easier_ courses, even though I had a 4.0.”

The guard nodded. “Prejudices are inherently blinding.”

Will shrugged. “Well, I adapted.” He glanced at the older man out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, if I start…talking like you – with your accent, I mean – it’s not on purpose. It happens sometimes when I’m around people too much.”

“You adopt their mannerisms?” Jakov asked, turning his head to more closely examine Will’s expression.

He shrugged. “Yeah, so if I start mimicking you or something, I promise I’m not making fun of you.”

Jakov nodded. “I think I’m socially aware enough to know when I’m being made fun of, and _you_ do not seem the type to behave that way unnecessarily.”

Will blushed, averting his eyes. “You’re giving me way too much credit. My bad behaviour is _legendary_ in some circles.” He grinned at the guard, happy the man wasn’t making a big deal about his _quirks._

Jakov grinned back, showing off his sharp teeth.

Something about his smile alarmed Will on an instinctive level, and he paused just before they turned the final corner to the exit. The guard that had been stationed at the gate when he’d arrived wasn’t there anymore. In all likelihood, they’d called in all available personnel to help deal with the riot.

Will frowned. So why was Boris Jakov sent away to roam the halls? This was a high-security prison. Certainly the civilians had been safely tucked away by their escorts, just like Will was.

“Agent Graham?” the older man said, startling Will out of his thoughts. He took a step towards him, and Will found himself scrambling backwards until he collided with the wall.

 _Jakov’s_ face went completely blank, before his friendly smile returned. “You weren’t exaggerating about being able to read people.”

“Who are you?” Will demanded, alarm bells going off, and the word _DANGER_ flashing in his mind.

The smile turned almost feral. “I’d tell you, but I doubt you’d find me that interesting.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Fuck,” he whispered, reaching for his sidearm reflexively, only to grasp air.

Right, he’d left his gun at home.

Lecter – _Hannibal_ Lecter – _Hannibal The Fucking Cannibal_ – took another step closer to him, and Will froze in place.

_I knew I would regret coming here._

“I’m curious,” Lecter began, a silky smile fixed in place. “How would you describe me using your _talent,_ Will?”

The agent glared, digging his fingers into the cement wall behind him. He _refused_ to be cowed any further. He knew what type of monster Lecter was. Clever, manipulative, sadistic. He would _not_ give him the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

He was probably going to die. Might as well go out after giving Lecter the biggest _fuck you_ of all time.

Will took a deep breath, steadying himself, and clenched his fists at his sides as he began to speak. “I see you as one of those pitiful things, sometimes born in hospitals. They feed it, keep it warm, but they don’t put it on the machines. They let it die.”

Far from being offended, Lecter looked distinctly amused. “What a fascinating brain you have, Mr. Graham. I’d love to explore it further.”

Will gave him a smile that was more teeth than emotion. “Well, if you want to go grab a knife and fork, I’ll wait.”

Lecter grinned, showing off teeth that had torn into human flesh for years before his crimes were discovered. He took another step forward, and then suddenly paused, frowning. He turned his head to the side, back the way they came, and Will’s eyes followed his gaze instinctively.

The man at the end of the hallway was massive. Taller and broader than Lecter. His sleeveless shirt was torn and bloody, and Will saw the edge of a tattoo peeking out around his side.

Will had never met the man, but the instant he noticed the scar on his lip – the only visible evidence of the many surgeries he’d gone through to correct his facial deformities – he knew he was staring at Francis Dolarhyde – the Red Dragon.

He’d profiled the man for his class a year ago, when he was first captured. Dolarhyde had all the savagery of a beast paired with the intellect of a human being. When the Dragon was in control, he was impossible to reason with.

It only took a second for Will to realize that Dolarhyde was already planning out their murders.

“No bars to protect you now, Ripper,” he growled, arching his back as if unfolding large, leathery wings.

Lecter tilted his head, unfazed. “I never realized I needed them for protection, Francis.”

“You helped them cage me!” he roared, taking a lumbering step forward, hands curling like claws.

“It was nothing personal, Francis. I simply wanted to see how you would react. In truth, I had hoped that you would die before they managed to arrest you.”

Will gave Lecter an incredulous look. Was he _trying_ to antagonize him?

Lecter glanced back at him, a smile on his face, and Will found himself _understanding._

Neither one of them was getting out of this hallway alive, not unless they worked together. It went against everything he believed in, but Will nodded back slowly.

Keeping the Dragon in sight, he removed his glasses and snapped one of the thick arms off, pulling off the plastic earpiece to reveal the sharp metal tip underneath. No good for slicing, but a stab to the eye wasn’t out of the question.

Lecter looked amused by his improvised weapon, and Will resolved to punch him right in his smug face if they made it out of this alive. The doctor pulled what was once a metal spoon out of his belt, the round part filed down into a pointed blade.

The Dragon didn’t bother with weapons. He charged at Lecter first, but when the doctor smoothly sidestepped out of the way, he turned on Will.

He barely had time to think before Dolarhyde picked him up and flung him against the opposite wall, knocking the breath out of him. He felt like he’d been run over by a truck. His old shoulder injury flared up, but he managed to keep hold of his weapon.

He looked up in time to see Dolarhyde tackle Lecter to the ground, wresting the blade from his hands and tossing it away with barely a glance.

Of course he wouldn’t use it. He wanted to kill Lecter _his way._

Dolarhyde arched his head back to roar at the ceiling. He looked as fearsome as a lioness about to rip open her prey with her teeth. He was utterly consumed with the desire to end Lecter’s life.

Will could escape.

He glanced down the hallway. He could run. He could lock himself back in the interview room and wait for the guards to deal with Dolarhyde. Lecter would die, but…

…God, there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t help but think of the way Lecter had looked at him, how understanding had passed between them effortlessly. And suddenly he was back in that crack-house, and his partner was already down, and the suspect had a knife, and the bastard was coming right for him, and he couldn’t pull the _fucking trigger–_

He got to his feet, ignoring the way his shoulder howled in protest, and he reached Dolarhyde just as the man was about to sink his teeth into Lecter’s face.

Will dug his fingers into the Dragon’s mouth, pulling him back by his cheek, and rammed the metal arm directly into his throat.

Dolarhyde let out a gurgle, and then he reached up and flipped Will over his shoulder. Will landed hard on his back, face inches from Lecter’s who looked on with a vaguely pleased smile.

Dolarhyde pulled the metal arm from his neck, causing blood to spurt out, but he was clearly not disabled yet. He roared again, picking Will up and throwing him back down the hallway, then stalked after him. Will had clearly drawn the Dragon’s ire.

He crouched down and _plunged_ the metal arm directly into Will’s stomach. It snapped off at the end, unable to take any more abuse, and Will gasped helplessly, not believing how much such a little thing could hurt. It went in deep, no doubt perforating his intestines. If he made it out of this alive he’d probably need surgery to repair the damage.

The Dragon stood up then, unveiling his teeth in a menacing grin. “Should have run, gumshoe.”

And then a second later, the filed-down spoon slid across the floor, nearly bumping into Will’s hand, and Dolarhyde’s head was wrenched back once again as Lecter jumped on his back and pulled his chin up.

He didn’t waste time, sinking his teeth into the Dragon’s throat and tearing a chunk of his flesh away, leaving a bleeding, exposed wound.

Will picked up the doctor’s weapon, adrenaline numbing the worst of the pain as he got to his feet and swiped the blade across Dolarhyde’s stomach.

Lecter grinned madly, sticking his hand into the wound and savagely _ripping out_ a chunk of blood-soaked meat.

Dolarhyde gurgled a final time, sinking to his knees, eyes wide and back arched. Lecter casually stepped away, tipping the dying Dragon onto his back.

Will watched, mesmerized, as blood spread underneath the Dragon, coalescing into the shape of large, bat-like wings. He put his hand on his stomach, feeling the way the metal arm of his glasses stabbed into him whenever he moved. He was bleeding internally, and in pain, and he’d just committed his first murder to help protect a sadistic serial killer, and it was so…

“Beautiful.”

It took a second for Will to realize that the word had come from his own mouth, and then Lecter was there, holding him up as a wave of dizziness nearly sent him crashing to the floor. He leaned Will against the wall, never breaking eye-contact with the agent. There was something strange about the doctor’s expression, more than just the thrill of the hunt.

Will panted, wondering if Lecter would finish him off now.

Instead, Lecter tilted Will’s face up, looking enraptured. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said, and then sealed their lips together.

Will felt his brain short-circuit. His hands went around the doctor’s back, clutching at the stolen uniform. He moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth and yanking him even closer.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Lecter pulled away, gasping and staring up at the ceiling in exultation.

As soon as the kiss ended, Will suddenly became aware that his shirt was soaked with blood, and his side started burning. He grunted, and felt his knees buckle.

Lecter caught him, easing him to the floor. He pulled off his own jacket, bundling it up and pushing it against Will’s wound. “Keep pressure on this. I know it hurts, but you have to slow the bleeding.”

Will gazed up at him, confused. “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Hannibal smiled. “The thought never crossed my mind.” He then brushed Will’s hair back with his long, blood-soaked fingers, and planted a kiss on his forehead. “We should do this again someday.”

Will wasn’t sure if he meant the killing part or the kissing part, and he was too out of it to ask for clarification.

Without another word, Hannibal Lecter stood up, and casually made his way out the front door of the prison.

**Author's Note:**

> Does that count as a happy ending? I mean, Will's bleeding out on the floor, Hannibal has escaped, and Jack is going to be pretty pissed when he finds out what happened.
> 
> On the other hand, THEY KISSED!!! *faints*
> 
> I don't plan to continue this, but my headcanon is that Will and Hannibal meet again a few months later, and after Will punches him right in his smug face, he asks Hannibal if he wants to help him kill this asshole named Mason Verger, and they go off on a merry murdering spree, and get married, and adopt like twenty-seven dogs, and live happily ever after.
> 
> Okay, I'm gonna get back to work on Mania.
> 
> Adieu, my faithful readers.


End file.
